Artwork by Phil Meyer

IMAGINATION

The whole of you is never visible,
half of you out of sight.
Presumably you’re all there,
but what haven’t I imagined?

GETTING TO KNOW YOU, CONDOR #51

We both bathe, preen, feed, prattle, and rest.
Arms outstretched I mimic you, my reach
a few feet short of your nine-foot wingspan.
You fledge at six months; Eighteen years for me.
You live to about sixty. I gotcha there.
You glide at fifty-five miles per hour.
I walk at three. Eighty-nine of you
in California, 36,000,000 of us.

We won’t go into what we eat, but both
will travel 150 miles a day for a good meal.
You’re not as thrilled to see me in Big Sur
as I am to see you, Condor #51.